My memory may be little photographic. Yet, even the greatest photographs cannot capture a certain characteristics of some objects; taste is one of them. Likewise, I too can’t remember the taste of the first ‘kiribath’ I ate, for I must have been too small to tell apart ‘kiribath’ from usual rice when Achchi stuffed a ball of milk rice into my mouth at the auspicious time. According to her, that was how they started giving me solid food. When times went by, I would have certainly preferred milk rice to red rice and usual curries, for it had a nice flavor and a strange charm to make me happy.
Like every child, I would have been addicted to it at some point that Amma had to cook kiribath once a week to pacify my cravings. Kiribath made another special appearance when I read my first alphabet. As a three-year-old I had an alphabet of my own which mostly looked like a line of ladybugs who could not walk straight. They took a fair amount of space in my father’s books. The need to learn the letters escaped my little brain as I could look at the pictures and tell what they were without reading the word underneath. The first official word I read must have been ‘Amma’ since it is the first word in the ‘hodi potha.’ Quite shamefully, my most vivid memory of the day is a huge plate of kiributh and a dish of red-hot lunu miris on the table where I sat by.
Its aroma crosses my mind again with a softness of a forgotten lullaby, which drags me all the way back to my first day at school; new books, crispy white uniforms and shiny shoes, and of course to complete the picture, a steamy plate of kiribath on the breakfast table. Perhaps I was too ignorant to be nervous about the new life I was about to enter, or I was too excited to show off my new things that I couldn’t feel butterflies in my stomach. Perhaps, my breakfast would have devoured the naughty creatures!
Like every other Sri Lankan, I have come to accept kiributh as another name for happiness and a symbol of good. It hardly misses to come to table on birthdays, weddings, every first day of the year and on the day of Avurudu, no matter at what time the auspicious time for eating falls. Perhaps I have grown out of my childhood cravings, yet I view it with respect. Kiributh is one of those things that walk with you through every milestone of your life and tells you that you are part of a timeless tradition. As for me, it is a page-marker that has flagged all my picturesque memories and an air-freshener of past that will keep refreshing my air in future.
Like every child, I would have been addicted to it at some point that Amma had to cook kiribath once a week to pacify my cravings. Kiribath made another special appearance when I read my first alphabet. As a three-year-old I had an alphabet of my own which mostly looked like a line of ladybugs who could not walk straight. They took a fair amount of space in my father’s books. The need to learn the letters escaped my little brain as I could look at the pictures and tell what they were without reading the word underneath. The first official word I read must have been ‘Amma’ since it is the first word in the ‘hodi potha.’ Quite shamefully, my most vivid memory of the day is a huge plate of kiributh and a dish of red-hot lunu miris on the table where I sat by.
Its aroma crosses my mind again with a softness of a forgotten lullaby, which drags me all the way back to my first day at school; new books, crispy white uniforms and shiny shoes, and of course to complete the picture, a steamy plate of kiribath on the breakfast table. Perhaps I was too ignorant to be nervous about the new life I was about to enter, or I was too excited to show off my new things that I couldn’t feel butterflies in my stomach. Perhaps, my breakfast would have devoured the naughty creatures!
Like every other Sri Lankan, I have come to accept kiributh as another name for happiness and a symbol of good. It hardly misses to come to table on birthdays, weddings, every first day of the year and on the day of Avurudu, no matter at what time the auspicious time for eating falls. Perhaps I have grown out of my childhood cravings, yet I view it with respect. Kiributh is one of those things that walk with you through every milestone of your life and tells you that you are part of a timeless tradition. As for me, it is a page-marker that has flagged all my picturesque memories and an air-freshener of past that will keep refreshing my air in future.
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